


I'm not the knife that twists in your heart

by captainhurricane



Category: Metal Gear Solid
Genre: Age Difference, M/M, Public Hand Jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-16
Updated: 2015-10-16
Packaged: 2018-04-26 16:06:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5011087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainhurricane/pseuds/captainhurricane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>David has a crush. Kaz doesn't deal with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm not the knife that twists in your heart

**Author's Note:**

> shrugs

David shifts his weight from one foot to another, bright and alert. The bartender comes to him again, opening his mouth but David shakes his head. The bartender sighs.  
“Kid, you need to drink something, otherwise I’m gonna have to tell you to leave,” the bartender huffs and scratches his beard. David shifts again and sits down by the counter. 

“Sorry,” he murmurs. “I just thought he would be here already.” Although Kaz hadn’t exactly seemed in his right mind when he had invited David out for a drink, David had accepted the offer eagerly. Somehow he feels like he could raise his fearsome mentor’s spirits a little. 

David orders a beer and takes off his jacket, placing it on the stool next to him. He’s barely taken the first sip when the tiny bell above the door clings and Hell Master himself steps in. The ever-present sun glasses hide Kaz’s eyes but David knows the instant they settle on him, heavy and inquisitive. 

“Master Miller,” David says, stands up instantly and would have bowed if Kaz hadn’t waved his hand at him dismissively. 

“Sit down. I’m not here to get bowed at.” Kaz looks older like this, under the dim lights of the tiny bar. The shadows on his face seem deeper. David pities him, perhaps. Doesn’t know all Kaz has been through but it shows on his face that it hadn’t been easy- not to mention the prosthetic limbs. One of which had been wrapped around David’s own dick just a couple of days ago. David clears his throat and distracts himself by taking a large gulp of his beer. 

Kaz huffs, amused when he makes a face.

“Too cold for you, huh?” 

Kaz himself orders a shot of whiskey. The bartender eyes them for a moment and then leaves them alone. Thankfully there is only one pair of rather drunken old men in the corner so they can be alone. 

David watches Kaz, the unshaved jaw and the hasty ponytail. Like this, in casual clothing he seems like a different person than the Hell Master who had barked orders at recruits until two of them were crying just earlier the same day. 

“Do you want to do it again?” Kaz asks, casually. David blinks, looks away. His skin is warm. It doesn’t take a genius to know what Kaz is talking about. (Panting, shivering hands grabbing Kaz’s t-shirt. Mouths meeting in a kiss again and Kaz’s hands working and working and the climax hitting both of them almost at once). Should he have enjoyed it? Kaz is his authority figure. Kaz is nearly thirty years older than him and has thirty years more experience under his belt. And way more scars, as David’s fingers had found as they wormed their way underneath the thin training shirt Kaz had worn that day. 

“I-” David takes a sip of his beer. It’s not that Kaz isn’t attractive even with all his grumpiness and the hard lines of his face. It’s not that. It’s not that David is afraid because he didn’t join FOXHOUND to be afraid- he joined to conquer his fears, to be the best of what he can be. He knows little of the inner turmoil Kaz is going through, only thinks through his own heart and experiences. And they all tell him he should say yes. 

Kaz might just get fired if it came out what they did. And David might never meet Big Boss, the living legend himself. 

“Yeah,” David finally says, mostly into his beer. Only quick reflexes save him from choking when Kaz shifts next to him, his hand- flesh and blood- worming its way over David’s thigh. 

“Mast- ah, not in public,” David hisses, looks around but neither of the drunken old men seem to have realized they’re not alone. And the bartender is chatting on the phone on the other end of the counter. David makes the mistake of turning to look at Kaz; what an expression his master is wearing, mouth open and something pained stuck on his lips. 

“Stay still,” says Kaz, shifts so their thighs are pressed together. So casually Kaz takes sips of his drink with his prosthetic hand, while the other is massaging David’s groin and the bulge that has started to grow. David swallows hard, glad for the dim lighting. He keeps glancing at the bartender but he still doesn’t seem to look at their direction. 

“We’ll just say that you get drunk very easily,” Kaz says and his grip gets tighter, making David whimper audibly. He slams a hand on his mouth but nobody seems to have heard. Kaz’s grin is joyless, dangerous. David doesn’t know, doesn’t need to know what goes through his mentor’s head. 

“You’re a good kid, David,” Kaz murmurs and takes another sip. The drink burns his throat pleasurably as he sighs when he swallows. David stares at him, grabs his arm but can’t speak in fear that all that will come out is a squeak. 

“And you have a nice dick,” Kaz continues. This time his dexterous, treacherous fingers sneak their way inside David’s pants, pass by the waistband of his boxers and dive all the way for the building erection. David bites hard on his lip. 

“Master!” He hisses, staring at Kaz. Who stares back, who leans forward to bite his neck. David gulps down half of his beer, drowning the moan that wants to come out. Kaz withdraws back to his own chair but doesn’t withdraw the stroking, caressing hand. His thumb brushes the tip, smears whatever pre-cum there is. David chews his lower lip and keeps an eye on the bartender. He’s way too close.

Kaz stares ahead of him, his cloudy eyes seeing something else than the photograph-covered wall as his hand just keeps on going. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t murmur any more filth into David’s ears. Still, embarrassingly enough, David spills his load into his pants, coaxed by those skillful fingers. He has to bite down on his fist not to cry out. 

Finally, the hand withdraws. Kaz wipes his hand on a napkin and tosses it to the tiny trashcan next to the door. 

“Finish your drink, kid. Then follow me.” 

David takes a few deep breaths, licks his lips. His groin throbs, his gaze remains on his master. Kaz empties his own glass and sets it down. 

“Or are you disobeying me?” Still that same, nonchalant tone but the words have gotten dangerous. David finds his words stuck on his tongue as he shakes his head.

“Never, master,” he mutters and hastily empties his own glass. 

It’s worth it, since when they reach outside, Kaz pulls him to the side alley and kisses him until his knees are weak and until Kaz’s own bulge is visible through his pants. David licks his lips, head swimming and heart thumping but Kaz denies him, leads him to a taxi.

“My protege, he’s had a few too many,” Kaz huffs to the taxi driver, the smirk he throws at the driver is reminiscent of him when he was young and hopeful. 

“I’m not,” David starts but doesn’t protest being sat down next to Kaz. 

“You are,” Kaz brushes his hair a few times with his hand, smiling. David goes quiet, but not passive: he grabs Kaz’s hand and pulls it down to his thigh.


End file.
